...or more accurately, some of the idiots who commented on it.
So Watson went on Jeopardy!, took on some of its greatest champions of all time, and summarily kicked their asses. I can't really say I'm surprised that it could play well, but I was surprised by how much of a blowout the game was. Brad and Ken did what they could, I guess, but I guess Watson was playing a lot like Ken played in his original run.
While I'm surprised just at how good it was at playing the game, I couldn't help but notice that some whiners wanted the game to be more "fair". While there are too many hilariously whiny posts for me to post here (you can go read them all at the Jeopardy! message boards), the bulk of them seem to be complaining about the fact that the match wasn't fair because Watson (supposedly) had an advantage buzzing in, and that the whole affair appeared to be a three-day commercial for IBM.
My take on the whiners: so farking what?
First point, the buzzers: the whole point of the IBM Challenge was to develop a MACHINE that could play Jeopardy! against human players. Of course there's a machine that's going to press the button for it, not a human (as some of the whiners have suggested). If a human were to control Watson's buzzer, it'd defeat the whole damn point of the challenge, wouldn't it? So naturally, the playing field is already tilted. It'd be like designing a competition where Usain Bolt competed in the 100m dash against a cheetah. Swapping out Watson's mechanical button-pressing would be like weighing down the cheetah with several 100-lb weights, all in the name of a "fair competition". The programmers weren't concerned with a level playing field--if they were, they wouldn't have made the breakthroughs they have because they would've been so narrow-minded on making the games "fair".
Besides, no one was complaining when Ken Jennings was on his original run, and people were comparing his buzzer skills to a machine's 6 years ago. No game of Jeopardy!, superchampion playing or not, is truly ever a level playing field.
Who's to say these aren't also disgruntled fans who just want the humans to win? Besides, it's been proven that Watson can be beaten.
Second point, the whole "commercial" BS: did anyone not see past the point that IBM was telling us how Watson was developed? Yeah, it seemed like "IBM this, IBM that," but it's not like they were trying to sell us anything, they were telling us what Watson was, what developments they needed to make to the system to make it work, and what the concept is behind it. I think I'd be more thrown if there were no explanation as to why Watson was there or why this is even happening. I know IBM put a bunch of videos about Watson on YouTube, but I think this was for the viewers out there who didn't follow those online videos, who had no notion of what this was about.
I think these are more disgruntled Jeopardy! fans who are just sour about the fact that they're not getting a full game, or that they have a segment in a game show that has nothing to do with gameplay, or that they don't care about the potential impact that this system could have on our future. And people keep saying they're not going to watch Jeopardy! anymore after Watson...c'mon, people, it's not like Watson's going to be there for every damn show! You're going to get three humans on Thursday (teens, actually...).
Besides, Jeopardy! scored some massive ratings over the last three nights. Producers aren't gonna give a damn if this game wasn't on a level playing field.
So quit your damn whining already.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Reactions and Reflections of a Shocked Survivor (Repost)
This is a repost of a Facebook note I originally wrote on June 2, 2009, when the program was still fighting for its life. Addendum (written today) added after the ridiculously long reflection.
justalinebreakmovealongandignorethis
Well, where do I even begin?
I suppose it all started in April 2006--I had gotten a brochure in the mail about some performing arts camp in Gainesville, GA, at a certain Brenau University. I had virtually nothing planned for my summer, save for a camp in San Francisco dealing with, as they claimed, "medicine". The dates fell just right, and I, being the lost freshman I was at the time, was experiencing the very beginnings of a theater bug. So, I figured, why not?
Summer rolls around, and I go to that medicine camp. And let me tell you, the place was an utter waste of my time--three weeks that I was never going to get back. Some of the people at that place were probably the biggest jackasses you could ever imagine. As if that wasn't enough, the program wasn't very good--we were given two workbooks at the top of the program and didn't even use them. Needless to say, I hated it.
So July 16, 2006 rolls around--the first day of Firespark!. With the sting of the last camp still very fresh in my mind, I'm a little skeptical as to how these next two weeks are going to play out. So I pull up to the front of Pearce Auditorium (I had made the mistake of driving 10 hours from NOLA to get there) and there's nobody there, save for two people who are there for the same reason I'm there. As I'm talking to them, I'm thinking "OK, maybe this won't be so bad after all..."
I never said the word "bad", or any synonym or variant thereof, again for the next two weeks.
Sure, I was just a dazed and confused first-year, but already I could tell that this wasn't any ordinary summer camp. This was a place where a conglomeration of countless people--people who shared things in common with me, yet people who were unique and special in their own ways--could come together and have a spectacular two weeks. It was the only place where a 13-year-old could be great friends with a high school senior. Your teachers weren't just teachers, they were friends. Drama Night was the pinnacle of it all, I think--I still remember much of the work, "Thanatopsis", that we put out. Running out onto a darkened stage, simulating heartbeat with various appendages, creating a scene of busy city life and watching the doors close at night, riding a rushing human river, watching your own funeral, rising from the ashes like a phoenix...I can only imagine what it was like watching that thing from the audience. Even three years later, I'm still pissed that I had to fly out the very day I was to be in that scene one last time in the Best of.
And the day I left, I knew I had found a special place. I really thought I had the best two weeks of my life--and that's saying a lot, considering I had been on a freakin' quiz show some years back.
Sophomore year came and went, though not without that phase of chronic depression that comes with being a lonely SOB at school. I had actually contemplated...well, the option of no return, to put it lightly, for a while. But May rolled around, school let out, and I knew I was going back to Firespark! that year.
2007 was probably the year at Firespark! that changed my entire life.
Now let me explain: I'm a pretty shy person by nature. And, to some point, I still am. But before FS'07, I don't think I would've ever had the guts to perform on stage multiple times, to stick my neck out interviewing people, or be thrown into a situation--on stage--where I had no earthly idea what was coming next. Heck, I would never have had the gall to spill my heart out to someone before that year.
I did all of those things that year. And I continue to even today. It was truly a year for me to break out of my box, and did I ever. I never realized how special this place was to me before 2007. And as I did my first school play the following school year, I looked back on that year and thought, "Yeesh--I've come a long way." Most importantly to me, however, I discovered how to love again.
And BTW: Carnivale Couchemar. Need I say any more? Yes: we died playing a piano.
So FS'08 comes and I realize that my tenure as a camper at this place may be coming to an end. Yes, the crowd has worn thin over these last three years, and there are still a bunch of first-years who are afraid to stick out, but there's no way I'm letting that bother me. I may have been afraid to play some music that I've never seen or even heard of before I actually played it, but dammit, I got over that pretty quickly. And Combat...well, if playing the character was the reason we didn't make Best Of that year, then I can live with that. We went for scary, and we got it.
But when it came time to leave that year, I did something that I thought I would never have the heart to do again.
I CRIED. I cried for the first time since my grandfather passed away four years prior.
Leaving Firespark! for the last time was equitable to losing my grandfather? How does that happen?
I think it all boils down to one thing: it's the people that are there. It's been said before: these people don't judge you. They accept you for who you are. Not for what you do, not for what you look like, not for what you believe, not for where you come from, none of that. I repeat: THEY ACCEPT YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE. There's no other place I know of where this happens, and THAT'S why it's a place I can call home.
When I got word that 2009 may be the camp's last year, I wasn't surprised by any means; attendance had been dwindling since 2007, from what I could see, and more and more Survivors were saying they weren't going back. But dammit, it felt like a ton of bricks. I had such a life-changing experience there, I had met so many wonderful and talented people (many of whom I still talk to through here) at this wonderful place that would become nothing more than a memory soon. I just can't fathom a summer without Firespark!, even though I've only been there three times. I'd even go out on a limb and say that a little over a third of my Facebook friends are from Firespark!. That's, as of this writing, 222 people. 222 people that I probably would never have known or gotten close to if it weren't for this place.
So what I guess I'm trying to say with this note, other than spilling my heart out about the place, is that this place has given me so many memories and new friends. I don't want it to disappear, because then that would mean so many other people wouldn't get to have that chance. And everyone should have a similar experience at least once in their lives.
People need to find their inner fire...this is where I found mine.
justalinebreakmovealongandignore
2011 ADDENDUM:
It's gone. It's officially gone.
I was too upset to write something about this when I first heard the news two days ago, and I still am, two days later...
I'm not the only person who's saying that this place has shaped me into who I am today. It really has. Were it not for this place, I would have probably never considered studying journalism like I am now. I used to have really low self-esteem before going to Firespark!, but now (after spending three summers there) I feel much more secure about myself, and I'm a lot more outgoing.
On top of that, I've met some truly wonderful people over the three years I've been there. And we still keep in touch, even if we're half the world away. (Facebook is a wonderful thing sometimes.)
It was more than just a performing arts camp. It taught me some of the most important life lessons any decent human being should know before heading off into the real world. I don't need to make a whole rehash of the long-winded thing you'd see if you scrolled up, but those are the major ones.
And for that, I am eternally grateful.
IN PACE REQUIESCAT
FIRESPARK!
1977-2010
justalinebreakmovealongandignorethis
Well, where do I even begin?
I suppose it all started in April 2006--I had gotten a brochure in the mail about some performing arts camp in Gainesville, GA, at a certain Brenau University. I had virtually nothing planned for my summer, save for a camp in San Francisco dealing with, as they claimed, "medicine". The dates fell just right, and I, being the lost freshman I was at the time, was experiencing the very beginnings of a theater bug. So, I figured, why not?
Summer rolls around, and I go to that medicine camp. And let me tell you, the place was an utter waste of my time--three weeks that I was never going to get back. Some of the people at that place were probably the biggest jackasses you could ever imagine. As if that wasn't enough, the program wasn't very good--we were given two workbooks at the top of the program and didn't even use them. Needless to say, I hated it.
So July 16, 2006 rolls around--the first day of Firespark!. With the sting of the last camp still very fresh in my mind, I'm a little skeptical as to how these next two weeks are going to play out. So I pull up to the front of Pearce Auditorium (I had made the mistake of driving 10 hours from NOLA to get there) and there's nobody there, save for two people who are there for the same reason I'm there. As I'm talking to them, I'm thinking "OK, maybe this won't be so bad after all..."
I never said the word "bad", or any synonym or variant thereof, again for the next two weeks.
Sure, I was just a dazed and confused first-year, but already I could tell that this wasn't any ordinary summer camp. This was a place where a conglomeration of countless people--people who shared things in common with me, yet people who were unique and special in their own ways--could come together and have a spectacular two weeks. It was the only place where a 13-year-old could be great friends with a high school senior. Your teachers weren't just teachers, they were friends. Drama Night was the pinnacle of it all, I think--I still remember much of the work, "Thanatopsis", that we put out. Running out onto a darkened stage, simulating heartbeat with various appendages, creating a scene of busy city life and watching the doors close at night, riding a rushing human river, watching your own funeral, rising from the ashes like a phoenix...I can only imagine what it was like watching that thing from the audience. Even three years later, I'm still pissed that I had to fly out the very day I was to be in that scene one last time in the Best of.
And the day I left, I knew I had found a special place. I really thought I had the best two weeks of my life--and that's saying a lot, considering I had been on a freakin' quiz show some years back.
Sophomore year came and went, though not without that phase of chronic depression that comes with being a lonely SOB at school. I had actually contemplated...well, the option of no return, to put it lightly, for a while. But May rolled around, school let out, and I knew I was going back to Firespark! that year.
2007 was probably the year at Firespark! that changed my entire life.
Now let me explain: I'm a pretty shy person by nature. And, to some point, I still am. But before FS'07, I don't think I would've ever had the guts to perform on stage multiple times, to stick my neck out interviewing people, or be thrown into a situation--on stage--where I had no earthly idea what was coming next. Heck, I would never have had the gall to spill my heart out to someone before that year.
I did all of those things that year. And I continue to even today. It was truly a year for me to break out of my box, and did I ever. I never realized how special this place was to me before 2007. And as I did my first school play the following school year, I looked back on that year and thought, "Yeesh--I've come a long way." Most importantly to me, however, I discovered how to love again.
And BTW: Carnivale Couchemar. Need I say any more? Yes: we died playing a piano.
So FS'08 comes and I realize that my tenure as a camper at this place may be coming to an end. Yes, the crowd has worn thin over these last three years, and there are still a bunch of first-years who are afraid to stick out, but there's no way I'm letting that bother me. I may have been afraid to play some music that I've never seen or even heard of before I actually played it, but dammit, I got over that pretty quickly. And Combat...well, if playing the character was the reason we didn't make Best Of that year, then I can live with that. We went for scary, and we got it.
But when it came time to leave that year, I did something that I thought I would never have the heart to do again.
I CRIED. I cried for the first time since my grandfather passed away four years prior.
Leaving Firespark! for the last time was equitable to losing my grandfather? How does that happen?
I think it all boils down to one thing: it's the people that are there. It's been said before: these people don't judge you. They accept you for who you are. Not for what you do, not for what you look like, not for what you believe, not for where you come from, none of that. I repeat: THEY ACCEPT YOU FOR WHO YOU ARE. There's no other place I know of where this happens, and THAT'S why it's a place I can call home.
When I got word that 2009 may be the camp's last year, I wasn't surprised by any means; attendance had been dwindling since 2007, from what I could see, and more and more Survivors were saying they weren't going back. But dammit, it felt like a ton of bricks. I had such a life-changing experience there, I had met so many wonderful and talented people (many of whom I still talk to through here) at this wonderful place that would become nothing more than a memory soon. I just can't fathom a summer without Firespark!, even though I've only been there three times. I'd even go out on a limb and say that a little over a third of my Facebook friends are from Firespark!. That's, as of this writing, 222 people. 222 people that I probably would never have known or gotten close to if it weren't for this place.
So what I guess I'm trying to say with this note, other than spilling my heart out about the place, is that this place has given me so many memories and new friends. I don't want it to disappear, because then that would mean so many other people wouldn't get to have that chance. And everyone should have a similar experience at least once in their lives.
People need to find their inner fire...this is where I found mine.
justalinebreakmovealongandignore
2011 ADDENDUM:
It's gone. It's officially gone.
I was too upset to write something about this when I first heard the news two days ago, and I still am, two days later...
I'm not the only person who's saying that this place has shaped me into who I am today. It really has. Were it not for this place, I would have probably never considered studying journalism like I am now. I used to have really low self-esteem before going to Firespark!, but now (after spending three summers there) I feel much more secure about myself, and I'm a lot more outgoing.
On top of that, I've met some truly wonderful people over the three years I've been there. And we still keep in touch, even if we're half the world away. (Facebook is a wonderful thing sometimes.)
It was more than just a performing arts camp. It taught me some of the most important life lessons any decent human being should know before heading off into the real world. I don't need to make a whole rehash of the long-winded thing you'd see if you scrolled up, but those are the major ones.
And for that, I am eternally grateful.
IN PACE REQUIESCAT
FIRESPARK!
1977-2010
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